Once Upon a Holiday
by EmotionlessNightmare
Summary: A Princess visiting a high-end department store goes rogue from her security detail 4 days before Christmas to experience a side of London she has never seen before with a handsome, mysterious American stranger and romance blooms as they discover the city together. [Jaspenor AU]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** inspired by a incredibly cheesy film on Netflix of the same name. I hope you enjoy xx.

* * *

" _JAAH-AAMES! GET IN HERE, RIGHT NOW!"_ Eleanor's muffled voice hollered from her position beneath her blankets in the middle of the bed. It was four days until Christmas. Two days until the first Royal Snow Ball for charity that was to be held every Christmas Eve-eve at the palace at the declaration of Queen Wilhelmina. The inaugural event promised to be a spectacular evening of elegance, sparkle, dinner, and dancing. With plates starting at £1500, Britain's peerage and social elite were forking over thousands of pounds that in turn would be donated to ' _Better Together_ '; an initiative spearheaded by the King and Queen to aid in the rebuild of South London, the area that had been most affected by the ongoing housing crisis and suffered immense damage during the blackout several months earlier.

Christmas had always been her favourite holiday, and she was looking forward to it more than ever this year because it was the first holiday that the entire Henstridge family were for the most part, on speaking terms since Robert's coronation, and his subsequent wedding to Willow, the palace's former publicist.

Or as close as speaking terms that Liam being permitted to move his pregnant girlfriend onto palace grounds and into a small, 2-bedroom cottage could bring to Blenheim Palace. The very thought of the impending ' _Kiam baby'_ still made her want to vomit and for now, she was perfectly fine with their living arrangements.

With her twin being out of the big house so he could play _house and home_ with _Princess Kathryn- as the media had taken to calling her-_ left her feeling more lonelier than usual. She was single for the first time in nearly 4 years; her longtime boyfriend, and Robbie's subsequent best friend proposed to her on a private yacht off the coast of Gibraltar in front of all their friends and family with a rock that could have given her mother's a run for its money.

Everyone expected her to say ' _yes'_.

Except, the word that came tumbling out of her mouth was ' _no'_.

She had declined his proposal and embarrassed him publicly _._ Lord Twysden Beckwith II did not take kindly to being told ' _no'_ by the princess. Afterall, he had expected that they would get married. He would rise to the title of Prince. The entire world agreed that they were true love. They were childhood sweethearts, and nothing could ever break them apart.

She had lost her virginity to him in the Westminster Abbey pulpit. A secret both of them would carry to their graves.

Christmas was her favourite holiday, and because of that, she was determined to push her misfortunes to the back of her mind, and focus on what was really important: presents. Friends. Good Food. _Family_.

With presents being intendedly at the top of her list because she was a princess, afterall. _The Princess._ Money was no object and there was nothing she loved more than spoiling her loved ones at any possible chance.

There was no want. Only _need_.

Yet, somehow Eleanor managed to fall behind on one of the more important parts of Christmas- the shopping. She knew what to get the queen. The older one, anyway. The new one she could figure out along the way. Her brothers would be easier enough, and now with no man in sight, she had more time to focus on buying things for the one she loved most of all- _herself_.

Eleanor cleared her throat, and prepared to shout for her new bodyguard James Hill again. Clearly the man did not intend on lasting very long if he wasn't outside her door where he was supposed to be. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth only to have it shut seconds later when the french doors to her bedroom burst open; her detail at its helm balancing a tea tray and sporting an annoyingly bright smile.

The bastard knew the fact that he had come bearing breakfast negated any shit she was seconds from spewing at him.

"Good morning princess," he said brightly as he set the tray down on the corner of her vanity. It was the one area on the surface that wasn't covered in champagne glasses, stray pots of makeup, and brushes. James wiped his palms on his slacks before turning to the heavy drapery that were still pulled shut. "You've got a free schedule today. Is there anything you would like to do? Get some new sort of trinket for-"

"I'd like to go into London actually," she interjected, pulling her body to the edge of the bed. Throwing her legs over the side, Eleanor leaned forward to pick up the steaming cup of tea that awaited her. It was the right colour; still dark with just a hint of milk stirred in. A small smile spread across her thin lips as she looked back up to him. "I haven't started done _any_ shopping yet for the family. I know we said no gifts this year but I still want to get them _something,_ you know what I mean?"

James didn't answer, instead, he pulled the heavy drapes open with a dramatic flourish. Eleanor hissed; her body flinching away from the bright sunlight that was suddenly streaming into her room.

"About time you let some like into this dark den of yours. You spend far too much time locked up in this tower, Princess. If you want to go into London to buy some presents, then I will take you into London to buy some presents."

Eleanor lifted the teacup to her lips. Her small smile was hidden behind the cup. " _And_ I want to stop at Harry Winston too. We can make a call to let them know I'm coming, but I'd like to get something new for the ball. Since I'm the spinster sister now and all."

"Yes, making sure that you have enough diamonds to stand out from your monarch brother and your twin who is having a baby out of wedlock is of the highest importance, Princess," replied James as he turned to face her once again, now standing at attention with his hands behind his back.

Eleanor nodded her agreement, her face serious. "I have to hold my place in all of this madness, James. I'm boring to them all now." She gestured off to the window; indicating the people outside.

"Maybe boring isn't such a good thing, princess. Maybe boring is what you need. Take some time for yourself, Your Highness," he suggested, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously. If it were anyone else, she might have gotten suspicious. James had been on her detail long enough to prove to her that he was indeed harmless, and that his priorities lied with providing a life for his young daughter, and not ruining hers with any chance that he got.

"Spending time at the spa makes it sound like I have a drug problem," she complained, scrunching her nose at the mere thought. Taking another ship of tea, she pondered his statement again. _Boring_ meant that she would have more time to herself and think. Think about things that she didn't want to. Like being single at Christmas. Or what failed in her relationship with Beck. She wasn't _that_ lonely, though. Not yet.

They hadn't spoken in weeks. Not since he finally collected the remainder of his things from the palace. Robbie swore to her on their father's grave that he wasn't feeding him gossip about her private life to him through any illegal back channel.

Robbie assured her that while the man very well be his best friend, she was his sister, and he would always put her first above any friend of his, regardless of tenure. Eleanor was the youngest, by four minutes.. She had the privilege of having a love marriage, and not one of convenience or political strategy. While she loved Beck dearly, Eleanor knew in her heart that he was not the man she wanted to marry.

She was young. She still had time.

 _But taking it slow?_

No, it wasn't her style. It wasn't like even if she did want to go sit in the park and drink her tea and watch ducks instead of homeless people, she could. Not without her shadow. If not James, then there would be someone else. And then that someone would send a tip into _D-Throned_ and the rest would be history.

That would be the end of _"Eleanor, use discretion"_ and she would lose whatever little bit of freedom she had left.

She scoffed, and drank the rest of her tea before setting it back down on its tray with a loud _clang_. "I'm going to get ready, and then we're going to hit Bond Street. Just the two of us. No burly-looking things in suits. Got it?" She pointed her finger at him warningly, because the second she saw someone else from the palace, she would bolt.

James chuckled and straightened his tie in mock nervousness. "Got it," he repeated, his tone firm. Folding his hands behind his back, and offered her a stiff bow. "I'll leave you alone, Princess. I'll go make the necessary arrangements for a car to be brought around. I'll be right outside when you're ready."

* * *

Eleanor slid out of bed and lifted her hands high above her head and stretched; a soft, satisfied moan escaped involuntarily from between her lips. She picked up her phone and walked over to the large armoire on the other side of the room. There wasn't anything particularly interesting or exciting kept in the front; just various dressing gowns and other things that were shoved in there to aid in cabinet's double duty as a not-so-secret door to her closet and en suite. Nothing in her phone was of her particular interest this morning, just texts from her mother's personal assistant. Rachel, reminding her to confirm which tiara she wanted from the royal collection to wear to the ball.

That would be determined when she finally decided which gown she was going to wear. The choices were endless, and each one was more beautiful than the last. She had requested pieces to be brought in from various up-and-coming British designers, but Eleanor had noticed that some bigger names were still mingled throughout. Designers were ruthless; paying top dollar to her stylist to have their names added to her exclusive rack of possibilities.

Her dress for the Snow Ball was the least of her concerns right now. It was something that she could figure out later, and she conveyed that thought _yet again_ to Rachel before tossing the offending device facedown on the top of the large dressing table in the centre of the room before turning to the sliding door that led to the bath, fully intent on taking a long, relaxing shower. Eleanor had a feeling that it was going to be the last bit of peace and quiet she would have for the rest of the day, and she intending on relishing in every single minute of it.

A short time later, the princess reemerged back into her closet; her makeup minimal and hair styled down and pin-straight, the way she preferred to wear it. Since her trip to Harrod's and the surrounding high street was to be a casual and unofficial outing- she was desperate to not be recognized. She wanted to shop in peace, and hopefully the fact that James was with her didn't bring about too much attention. She didn't want anyone thinking that he was her sugar daddy. She found the thought simultaneously horrifying and hilarious.

Eleanor smirked to herself as she toned her appearance down to what she deemed ' _boringly common';_ dark skinny jeans and oversized white t-shirt with a hint of her black lace bandeau beneath peaking through.

Eleanor knew that her new bodyguard had a young daughter, Sara-Alice, but he wasn't much for talking about her, no matter how hard she tried. If she was going to be stuck with him, the least he could do was open up to her. He did on occasion, but Eleanor got the sense that he wanted to keep his personal life with his daughter seperate from the one he maintained at the palace working for the royal family.

For good reason, obviously. The entire lot of them were clearly bat-shit crazy.

Reaching for a black, wool trench coat, she shrugged it over her shoulders before winding a heavy, blood-red pashmina around her neck. From the selection on the tray before her, she paired it with a pair of black leather gloves that she knew would stay at the bottom of her purse, but her mother, Queen Helena, insisted that 'one must have a gloves on their person at all times', because god-forbid a royal had skin-to-skin contact with a commoner.

"I'm ready," Eleanor announced strutting out into the corridor, adjusting a burgundy wide-brimmed fedora onto her head. For the most part, it shadowed her face and would be perfectly acceptable to wear indoors. Parisian style would save her from being caught by the paparazzi for the rest of time.

"The car is waiting around back, Your Highness. There is quite a sizable group of obnoxious tourists at the front of the palace admiring the Christmas decorations. I assumed you would want to avoid them," James informed her breezily before she could get a headstart in the opposite direction.

His words had their desired effect; the princess stumbled in her stiletto ankle boots. A hand flew out to steady herself against the wall so she wouldn't fall over "You assumed correct, Mr. Hill," Eleanor replied through gritted teeth. Although irritated that it would be a bit of a longer walk than she anticipated, she was grateful she wouldn't have to pause for selfies or listen to her mother's irritating voice booming through a speaker as she described Victorian christmas decorations that were on display that supposedly held strong sentimental value to the royal family.

' _If only they knew,_ ' she thought to herself with a bemused expression.

James chuckled as she quickly fell into step with him. The man, while new to her detail, was one of the best bodyguards she'd had in ages. None of them seemed to be good enough. Talked too much. Wore too much cologne. Tried to sleep with her. _Again_. But not this one. He gave her the space she so desperately desired. There was _always_ somebody else in her shadow. Eleanor couldn't recall the last time she had truly been left alone.

Ever since her break up, her family had become particularly overbearing. Making sure she was okay. Upping her scheduled events and appearances to keep her occupied.

They didn't have to say it, but she knew they were afraid she would relapse and fall back into her party-girl and tabloid grabbing ways. The publicity it would bring would be tedious to deal with. Robert would be disappointed. Her mother would suggest a cleansing retreat in Sweden.

She wasn't that girl anymore. The last few years she spent with Beck she had grown up and became more focused on using her position and status in the world for good. She wanted to help, but Eleanor sadly knew reputation preceded her and she wasn't exactly the ideal royal patron.

She wanted to make her mark. She just needed to figure out how.

* * *

Despite her pleas and objections, James did not let her sit in the front, claiming that it was against the rules although Eleanor suspected it was because she couldn't stop fucking with the satellite radio stations and it got on his nerves.

Maybe in another life she would have been a radio announcer. Or had a trendy podcast.

Instead, he kept it on BBC One at a reasonable level, and the two remained silent as he drove through London's busy traffic.

The city was covered in a light dusting of snow and the temperatures were seasonably cool as the day drew on. Shoppers crowded the street and she knew what her bodyguard was thinking: this is hell. She couldn't have picked a more worse time to go out in public.

 _4 days before Christmas. Why couldn't she just send one of the footmen to do her bidding?_

Eleanor fiddled with her purse, ensuring several times that her lipstick, credit cards and an undisclosed amount of cash were safely inside. Checked the time on her phone.

Cursed out the traffic and every Londoner she could see through the dark tinted window under her breath until their final destination was reached, and James was focused with his next exasperating task. This one, however, she did feel bad about: parking.

They were caught between a rock and a hard place.

Their eyes met in the rearview mirror.

His narrowed.

Hers remained innocent.

"You do not leave the building and you keep your phone on you, ringer on, at all times," he said firmly. The kind of way she supposed a father would lecture his teenage daughter before she went to a party with her friends. "It's incredibly busy in there, and if you're seen-"

"-which I won't be," Eleanor replied, tapping the brim of her hat.

James rolled his eyes as he pulled off into a small side-street and idled the car. He turned in his seat to face her, not even bothering to hide his irritation. "Ah, your great disguise. How could I have forgotten?"

She heard him, but instead Eleanor found her eyes focused elsewhere. Nestled next to _Harrods_ and its dramatic window displays was _Harry Winston_ and his glittering diamonds. And inside Harry Winston, she discovered, was a tall, sickeningly handsome man in a black suit. He was standing near the front window with a serious expression and holding an iPad.

" _Princess_?"

" _What_?" blinking, she turned her attention back to her bodyguard, but her hand was already on the Bentley's silver door handle. "James, I'll be fine. I have my phone. I'll text you every ten minutes if that's what you want. Why don't you go to the men's section and look at the shoes? _Maybe they have a sale on lifts_."

His face was quick to morph into a scowl as hers formed a sweet smile as she opened the door and gracefully exited the car before he had an opportunity to reply.

When she turned around, the man in the window had vanished. There was absolutely no way she could go inside the store. Her promise to James was fresh in her mind and if she set one foot outside of the department store, he'd somehow know. The man had eyes everywhere. While outwardly pleasant and somewhat of questionable height, she knew the man was a former MI5 operative and probably had no qualms in weaseling his way into the security system to seek her out.

Instead, Eleanor easily blended in with the rest of the early afternoon foot traffic and headed inside. She nervously patted the brim of her hat, both adjusting it to keep it in place, and assuring herself that yes, it was still there and keeping her face hidden.

Soon, Eleanor found herself feeling more relaxed as she moved through various departments; purposefully taking her time. While inspecting a silver serving platter she was considering purchasing for her grandmother, she swore she could feel eyes on the back of her head. Cautiously, Eleanor peeked over her shoulder and out of the corner of her eye, she saw the same man from Harrods she had seen earlier. The man with the iPad. Only now, he had on a navy wool coat and was talking on his iPhone. His piercing blue eyes were staring unfocused on the back of her head.

Her heart skipped a beat. What was happening? _Who was this fair haired Adonis? Had he seen her too?_

 _Had he recognized her, and was now calling in reinforcements from the Daily Mail?_

The platter slipped from between her fingers and went soaring to the floor and began spinning against the tile with a loud, dramatic clatter. For a split second, she and the mysterious man locked eyes before she was forced to break their eye contact, hastily muttering "sht, shit, shit," under her breath to bend down and pick it up before a further scene could be caused.

Straightening back up, she put the tray back down on its display, determined to not look at the saleswoman again. She could sense her suspicion and feel her judgement. No, she was not going to steal it. The former Grand Duchess she was planning on purchasing it for would have ended up hawking it for travel vouchers to Monte Carlo and Eleanor knew she would never see the bloody thing again nor would her grandmother give it a second glance beyond it's hypothetical monetary value.

She wouldn't be surprised if she asked for the return receipt herself. Or, if it were easier, to simply swap it for cash out of the family's accounts. Like some kind of luxury pawn shop for divorcees or disgraced members of the royal court.

The very thought made her roll her eyes deep into the back of her skull as she turned around, and decided to head to intimates to spoil herself instead. She could order for the rest of the family online later. If she wanted to.

Eleanor gasped as she stumbled forward, her heel catching on a piece of loose tile. She scrunched her eyes shut as she felt her hat begin fall from her head and readied for impact, but it never came. Instead, she hit something vertical. Something vertical, hard and warm.

" _Ugh. What the fuck?!"_ gasped the head she assumed was attached to the rock-solid chest her face had previously pressed into.

 _Oh no._

 _No. No. No._

They both stumbled backwards and Eleanor braced herself for the onslaught of apologies for the blubbering fool to drop a ' _so very sorry, Your Highness_ '. She half expected James to come bursting through the lift at any moment to arrest him for even coming within a 4 foot radius of her.

Instead, she found herself staring into the icy blue eyes of the piece she had seen in the window of Harry Winston, his phone still raised to his ear; thumb still pressed against the 'end call' button.

"Do you just not watch you're fucking walking?" he blurted, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice. "If you took off that hat indoors _, like a lady,_ you might actually see where it is you're going," he continued on upon the realization that he now held her full attention.

Eleanor's eyebrows shot up in either alarm or surprise- which one, however, she was no longer sure sure of, and instead found herself momentarily struck by this mouthy, tall stranger. His deep baritone of his voice was smooth, like honey. _His accent-_

 _American_.

 _Of fucking course._

 _Who the fuck did this daft idiot think he was?_

 _Did he not realize whom he was talking to?_

Then again, the point of this bloody get up was for him to _not_ realize whom he was talking to.

"My apologies, _sir_ ," she replied scathingly, adjusting the leather strap of her cross-body bag in a huff in an effort to release some of her own growing agitation. Keeping her fingers occupied with fidgeting was easier " _That hat_ is part of my outfit, and I can see just fine, _thank you_. Evidently you're the one who wasn't watching where you were going. Perhaps if you kept your face out of your phone you wouldn't be knocking about!"

He scoffed, and ran his hand through his closely cropped blonde hair. Her fingers twitched against the palm of her hand; somewhere in the fog of her annoyance at this man, whoever he was- Eleanor found herself wanting to run her fingers through it too. She wanted to see if it felt as soft as it looked.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go look at some expensive, lace underwear," she continued haughtily before he could respond. There was absolutely no way she was going to let that beautiful blonde bastard have the last word in. Arguing with an American was of no use. She had heard both her father and brother complain about it on several occasions throughout her life. While she expected this one likely was not a high-ranking politician, she could tell he had an air of arrogance like one. She had been around men like him her entire life, and knew how to handle them; she certainly was not about to waste her few precious moments of solitude having a pissing contest with one over who ran into who in the middle of a crowded department store four days before Christmas.

Eleanor pushed past him without another word, purposefully bumping her shoulder into his arm as she squeezed between his motionless body and a rack of crystal serving dishes. She kept her shin high and eyes forward as she walked away, thankful that she did not hear any rapidly approaching footsteps from behind.

When she was safely hidden behind a rack of silky negligees, she chanced a glance back across the store, but it was fruitless. The crowd was too heavy, and the black wool coat he was wearing was unfortunately generic, and he was nowhere in sight.

She let out the breath she was holding, and sighed as she turned away, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear and pretended that her shoulder wasn't tingling in the spot where it brushed against his.


	2. Chapter 2

" _Your name, miss?"_

"Excuse me?" replied Eleanor rudely, looking up from her phone in alarm. An email from one of her assistants had caught her attention- there was a delay in the fake snow arrival for the ball. She wanted to turn the back garden into an ice rink since the canal had yet to freeze. Her mother, the _Dowager_ Queen, said the preposterous. " _Who would want to skate in a ballgown, Eleanor? Or be outside, for that matter?"_

Fortunately, her sister-in-law, the _reigning_ Queen Wilhelmina, thought it was an excellent idea, and gave her free reign to turn the back garden into an elegant wintery grotto. It still didn't didn't stop her mother from trying to interfere at any possible chance she could. The woman seemingly had an unnatural fear of being forgotten by the people. Or by the media. Or London's high society.

The barista across the counter went white as a sheet. Eleanor coughed. "I'm sorry. Holidays, am I right? My name is uh-," she stuttered. The young girl stared blankly, still holding the empty cup tightly in one hand, the other limply held a black marker between her fingers. "Matilda."

"Matilda," she repeated incredulously.

Eleanor arched an eyebrow, her eyes flickering to the tag on her chest baring the name ' _Olivia'_ and several seasonal stickers. " _Matilda_. _Would you like to see my ID, too?"_

"Right," replied Olivia slowly as she wrote it out. Clearly, working in a Starbucks in a luxury department store gave this one some sort of superiority complex. _If only she knew._ "£3.50 for your tea, then."

Eleanor slowly began to reach for her wallet, narrowing her eyes.

"I'll get it. Add a venti black to her order. _Jasper_ for the cup, _Olivia_ ," replied a voice from behind her. Eleanor felt a hand press lightly into the small of her back as her head whipped around in alarm, her jaw slack as the man she had run into earlier in housewares stared back at her, his blue eyes twinkling dangerously. He wanted her to challenge him.

"Alright. Er, seven quid then," snapped Olivia, clearly unimpressed that this transaction managed to escalate to another level of absurdity.

Eleanor turned back to the barista and offered her a quick, tight smile as a grey credit card was passed between them. She cast a wary look over her shoulder. The line behind them was out the door. _Shit_.

She furrowed her brow as the man she now knew apparently as _Jasper_ ushered her to the other end of the counter to join another cluster of awaiting patrons.

"You used me to jump the line? Your ignorance really knows no bounds, does it?" she asked, stepping away.

"It doesn't," he agreed with a light laugh. "But, I wanted a coffee and you were already there, and I wanted to apologise to you for running into you earlier. I wasn't watching where I was going. So it's good-good now, isn't it?"

"It's win-win," Eleanor replied slowly, although a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Win-win," he repeated. He looked like he wanted to say more, but hesitated, and closed his mouth.

"What? Is something on my face?" she asked worriedly.

"Just your hat," answered Jasper without missing a beat. "So _stubborn girl_ , I missed your name when you were arguing with the staff."

Eleanor rolled her eyes and turned away to eyeball the staff in question cast a wary look at the two of them. She had no intention in giving him her name. _Certainly not her real name at that_.

" _GRANDE EARL GREY FOR MATILDA!_ "

She froze, hand outstretched to pick it up as he was finishing his sentence.

" _VENTI BLACK FOR JASPER!"_

Her fingers closed around the warm paper cup and pulled it towards herself.

" _Matilda_ , huh?" his breath was hot against her ear, his voice silky. _Had he hit his head on the doorframe? Was he really flirting with her right now? Did he know?_ The man she know new to be called _Jasper_ reached around her to retrieve his own cup, careful to keep his body close to hers. On purpose, she was sure "I'm sorry for running into you earlier, _Matilda._ I've just been stressed out at work and suddenly there you were."

"And there I was," she mused.

The pair pushed their way through the crowded coffee shop to fix their respective beverages- or she did, he smirked and simply put a lid on the black sludge he was drinking. Eleanor never had been much of a coffee drinker; she was British. She preferred tea, just like any sensible English woman. Lidding her own drink, she lifted it to her lips and took a tentative sip. "Well, thank you. I'm going to return to my shopping now."

"Wait," he pleaded. She swore she heard a hint of desperation in his voice.

Eleanor paused and bit her lip. This was dangerous.

Then again, if he hadn't figured out who she was by now, he likely was never going to.

She turned back around and arched an eyebrow in his direction, and waited.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth behind her cup. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry, I don't usually do this. Ever. But would you like to delay heading back out into that fucking madhouse for at least fifteen minutes and finish my break with me before I have to go back to the office?" Jasper's blue eyes stared intently at her. "I don't know anybody here. I'm new, if you can't already tell," he gestured to his throat with a roll of his eyes, indicating he was well aware of the attention that his articulate American drawl brought about.

This poor bloke was lonely. Or was he being nice? Or a reporter? Stalker?

"Matilda?"

She blinked and shook her head as he repeated her name. "Um," she hesitated, her eyes flickering over to the clock on the far wall. She was supposed to meet James within the next hour, and she was nowhere finished her shopping. She had been sending her purchases to a courier that was used by the Palace for pick up. She was a princess; she didn't carry bags, nor did she want to have her bodyguard trailing about while she looked at lingerie.

 _Fuck it._

"I'd like that," she smiled, realizing that he was staring at her.

He stuck his hand out between them. "My name is Jasper. Jasper Frost. I've just moved here from America. I'm a security analyst for Harry Winston."

Eleanor eyed his hand for a fraction of a second. _Princess' did not shake hands._ "Nice to meet you, Jasper Frost," replied Eleanor grasping his warm hand; his long fingers easily wrapped around her own. He brushed his thumb across her knuckles as she began to pull her hand back. Over his shoulder, on the television, was a news broadcast running footage of Robert and Wilhelmina from the previous night when they had lit the Christmas Tree in the palace courtyard with children from a local orphanage. "My name is Matilda … Matilda _Roberts_. I live in London. I'm an event planner."

"Matilda Roberts the event planner," he repeated slowly as they slid into a small table off to the side of the cafe. It sounded as if he almost didn't believe her, judging from the skeptical look on his face. "That is an unfortunate name."

Eleanor scoffed in surprise as she pulled the hat off of her head, her hand automatically flying up to run her fingers through her hair to even out her flyaway strands. "It may be an unfortunate name, but it was my grandmother's. Besides; _Jasp-ah_ isn't anything to ring home about either. Is your father's called _Jack Frost, too?_ "

"Touche," Jasper reluctantly admitted as he sat down in the seat across from her, taking a moment to put his jacket on the opposite chair. Eleanor mimicked his actions before setting her bag carefully on the floor, against the wooden chair leg. "And no, _my father_ is called Earl."

Scoffing, Eleanor brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and looked up to find him staring at her yet again. "You stare a lot," she accused lightly, reaching for her tea once more.

She could have sworn she saw his cheeks tinge red. Or, it could be the overheated temperature of this bloody Starbucks. Eleanor preferred to think she was having some sort of effect on this handsome stranger. She hadn't wanted to be in any man's company since she ended things with Beck. Hadn't wanted to. Robert wanted her to keep a low profile and she was more than happy to oblige. However, he wanted her to start easing back into her royal duties in the new year; something she was understandably apprehensive of. Planning and attaching her name to the Snow Ball was their compromise.

A public breakup between his sister and best friend was a kind of publicity the King of England hadn't bargained for when when he himself had married in a lavish ceremony earlier in the year. They were all supposed to be happy. Happy, and in love.

She and Beck were naturally expected to be next big royal wedding.

It was unspoken knowledge within the walls of the palace she she was expected to make up for Liam's bastard baby. A burden that she still resented him for.

Robert might have even consented to letting her marry in Westminster Abbey if it meant that he would be able to curry favour with the House of Lords over their union and Twysden Beckwith's subsequent rise from Lord to _His Royal Highness_.

Maybe after the brat was born she might come around and give Kathryn Davis another chance. Right now, she still wasn't ready.

Keeping a low profile as Matilda Roberts, event planner extraordinaire, was as low of a profile she was willing to get.

 _If their father could to slip out and live amongst the plebs once in a while, why couldn't she?_

"You're paranoid," he dismissed lightly, taking a drink of his coffee before slumping back in his seat, lowering his eyes to her manicured hands on the table.

"So you work for Harry Winston, huh?" It was easier to change the subject. He secured diamonds and she liked them. Maybe if she were lucky, she could sweet talk this Jasper into giving her a private viewing, and she could make her picks for the ball in peace. "Bodyguarding diamonds seems to be a lucrative… niche."

Jasper snorted and looked away for a moment. "Something like that, yeah. I'm not a security guard. I work for corporate."

"Corporate," she repeated, clearly bemused. "I work for my brother."

"Is he a decorator too?" teased Jasper.

"Event planner," Eleanor bristled; she was quick to correct him. Determined to stick to her story. If he was full of shit, he would not make her crack. She would play this game to the death. "No, he's … military. Or was. He had an accident and now he runs a non profit for wounded vets. I work with him there and help out where I can."

He blinked in surprise. Eleanor knew she was a skilled in the art of bullshit, a trait she unfortunately inherited from her mother. At least it wasn't a complete lie. After all, this was just a brief encounter. It wasn't a date. She was being nice. He bought her a drink and his American ignorance didn't clue into who she was yet and so she would play along. For fifteen minutes, she could pretend to be normal. That she was a normal woman who had been nearly trampled by a handsome man in Harrods in the holiday rush. It was a modern fairytale.

"That is-" began Jasper, only to be interrupted by a young man yelping in pain and falling to the floor next to their table.

"-ugh what the hell!" he grumbled as he quickly tried to right himself. Eleanor recoiled in surprise and inched away as much as she could in her seat, her hair falling in front of her face as she turned away in a lame attempt at hiding her face in case someone did end up recognizing her. The last thing she needed was someone fawning about saying how much she looked exactly like Princess Eleanor. "My bloody boot lace came undone and I tripped, i'm sorry," apologized the man. His voice was muffled from the combination of still being half beneath their table as he tied his bootlace and his mouth hidden behind the wool scarf that was wound around his neck.

 _It was stifling inside. How could he possibly not be overheated?_

"Excuse me," he said quickly before either of them could reply, and scrambled to his feet and took off in the other direction in a brisk walk.

"What the hell was that?" said Eleanor incredulously as she righted herself. She narrowed her eyes and looked over Jasper's shoulder.

"Holy shit," Jasper interjected, quickly rising to his feet, his voice raising in alarm. "Matilda, he just stole your purse. It's gone."

"What?!" she panicked. Her phone was in that bag.

She looked down.

Sure enough, it was gone.

When she looked back up, Jasper was gone. Instead, he was pushing his way through the line to go after him, but it was too late.

"Jasper!" she called hoarsely, gathering both of their coats up in her arms in haste. This was bad. Bad. _Or was it?_ "JASPER, STOP!" Louder this time.

A few people turned their heads in alarm at the sound of her shrill voice, including her intended target. "Stop," she repeated when she finally reached his side. "Please."

"He just stole your bag, Matilda. You have to let me call security."

"Just let him go," she said firmly, although there was an edge of panic in her tone. "You can't call security."

He stared at her like she had just lost her mind. Maybe she had.

"Your wallet. Your credit cards-"

"I don't have any credit cards," she interrupted. Her annoyance was growing with each passing second. She needed to get out of here. _Preferably, with him._

"Everyone has credit cards," he replied.

"Not me. Debt free," she joked lamely as she shoved his wool coat into his arms.

"You don't want me to call security?" he ignored her statement, and pressed again. He jammed his arms into the sleeves, but didn't bother to zip it back up.

"No I don't," she said firmly, holding his gaze. "There wasn't anything in there that was important, I used most of the cash I had on me, anyway. If he stole it he must need the money, right?"

Jasper stared at her slack jawed. "Or," he tried again, stepping in closer. It was as if he could sense her agitation with the situation. Still confused about why she wouldn't involve security. Any other woman would want their purse and belongings back. "He is a thief who needs to be taught a lesson. You can't just go around stealing beautiful womens' bags like that!"

Eleanor was no other woman.

To this innocent man, she was not a princess. Simply put, a _beautiful woman_.

Let James go on a wild hound chase after the thieves who stole the Princess' purse. As far as James and the rest of palace security knew, she was with it, and had been kidnapped. James knew her well enough; it wouldn't have been the first time she had taken off like this. It had been months since she had time to herself.

On the inside, Eleanor was smiling.

"Please Jasper," she begged, her hand flying out to grab hold of his wrist and lowered her voice. Her tone took on an edge that she only used when speaking to the help; a sign of her desperation. He must have sensed it. "There really wasn't much in there. My family is rich. I've been putting all of my purchases today on our credit account. That's why I don't have any bags with me, alright? It was just my mobile, and maybe a few hundred quid. Replaceable things."

She was treading dangerous waters now. "You should probably go," sighed Eleanor, releasing him and taking a step backward. She could smell his cologne; a fresh, woodsy scent that reminded her of the Christmas' that she and her siblings had with their father at the Henstridge family's private country estate when they were children. A time when their mother disappeared to spend time with her lover, and they could finally relax and act like real children.

Maybe it really was her time to disappear. She would be back in time for the Snow Ball. No harm, no foul.

"I can't leave you here like this," he gestured to the crowd moving around them; a passing lady bumped his shoulder with a large garment bag forcing him to stumble backwards. "Come back downstairs with me to my office and you can use my phone to call an Uber. _Or something._ "

She was a casually dressed princess in the middle of a popular London department store without a security detail. However, there was a strange man who probably knew how to use a gun or protect her if worse came to worse. James would be proud of her in due time.

 _There was no way in hell she was going to call an Uber. Not now, or ever._

"Sure," Eleanor gave in, smiling sweetly. There would be no place more safer than a back office at a high-end diamond retailer. There would be no place more sexier, either, she reasoned with herself as she trailed closely behind him towards the double doors that led to the back staircase.

A quicker escape route. More discreet.

This was quite possibly her best idea. Second to that of going to Robbie's new wife to get permission to flood a portion of the garden after her mother said _no_.

She snorted to herself.

"Everything alright?" Jasper peered over his shoulder as he pushed open the door, and then stood aside for her to pass him.

"Just great," she drawled, brushing her hand along his chest, a small smirk playing across her lips. "I've never taken an Uber before so I'm very interested in calling one."

"Of course you haven't," he rolled his eyes as they began their decent down. "It's an app, Matilda. _Honestly…_ "

His disdain only caused her smirk to widen.

Eleanor looped her arm through his. "You can teach me how to app an Uber. I'm just a poor, lost little rich girl," she teased. "Jasper, I don't even know my driver's number. How pathetic is that? Am I?"

"You're not pathetic," he assured her, patting his hand on hers as they rounded a corner on the metal staircase, by passing another pair. "It's not your fault you were born in the back of a limousine with a nanny to memorize numbers for you."

"No, it's not," she agreed. " _Hm_. I can't wait to tell my mother she's raised an invalid."

That caused him to laugh. A full bellied laugh escaped him and she snapped her neck to look at him in alarm.

"Sorry," he choked. "I'm not. I don't know why that was so funny."

"If you knew my mother, you'd laugh," said Eleanor. If only he knew who her mother was. Helena might be the beloved, resilient Queen Mother to the outside world. To those on the inside- those who were supposed to be her family, she was cold, calculating, and obsessed with her family's public persona. A public persona that her two youngest children had put on very thin ice as of late.

He offered her a smile, but said nothing more until they were outside on the side of the street.

"Are you sure you want me to come in there? I mean, you just picked me up in a Starbucks," Eleanor asked worriedly.

"It'll be fine," he assured her. "My office is upstairs above the store. It'll be fine, just follow my lead, alright?"

"You're so dramatic," Eleanor whispered harshly. For a brief moment, she had feared he was going to lead her through some sort of check point where he would vouch for her. Instead, only a few heads turned in their direction. One security guard offered them a wave and a curious look which they both ignored. She was too focused on the feeling of his large hand wrapped around hers.

Jasper had pulled a key card from inside of his coat pocket to unlock a door in the far corner of the store, and led her into a small, dark entry way that led to a rickety staircase that only existed in London's oldest buildings. The place was probably haunted by one of her ancestors. Shit, her family probably owned something deep within the basement vaults.

He shook his head and led her towards the second floor where there was indeed, a small office door with his name on a black plate.

"Jasper Frost," she read, purposefully annunciating his name with a taunt.

"Matilda Roberts," Jasper mimicked,. He pushed the tips of his fingers into the small of her back, ushering her into the room. Eleanor cast a look over her shoulder; a small black camera was hanging above the door. She lowered her head. Maybe she should have put the hat back on. Jasper was right. She was paranoid. James likely hadn't realized she took off yet. He didn't have access to every security system in the entire kingdom.

 _Too late now._

She liked the way her fake name rolled off of his tongue in his smooth American accent. Eleanor imagined that her _actual_ name would sound much, much better. Things that would come in good time, she hoped. She was still a princess, after all; and a resourceful one at that.

"You don't want me to get an Uber do you," he said softly from behind. Eleanor froze in surprise; she hadn't heard him approach. His hand came to a rest on her elbow and she closed her eyes, and breathed in. Leaned back into his embrace.

There was a time before Beck- before Robbie became king- before all of that bad shit happened- that she used to be so carefree. An encounter like this was nothing new; it was a game she knew how to play very well. She knew that she wanted to him from the second she laid eyes on him from inside the car.

The iPad in question was sitting on his desk on the far side of the room.

"I don't, no," she whispered. Eleanor turned in his embrace, and raised her hand to wrap her fingers around the thin, black tie around his neck to pull him in closer. "I must confess, I saw you in the window earlier when you had that frown on your face." His other hand anchored her more firmly against his body as her free one rested on his rough cheek.

His face inched closer to hers; his blue eyes had darkened considerably.

"I saw you get out of that black town car," Jasper revealed. His lips were mere centimeters from hers now.

He began to back her up. Towards the desk.

"I saw you get out and I knew I had to have you," he continued. "I didn't mean to run into you, Matilda. _That_ was an accident, baby."

"An accident?" she murmured. Eleanor lowered her hand from his face to wind around his neck. The desk hit the back of her legs and she slid on top. She pushed his ipad to the side as their mouths finally fused together. His hands moved up her back. Around her neck and then in her hair; forcing her to tilt her head up to give him better access to her neck.

"I'm making it up to you, aren't I?" he said gruffly; his hot breath came in hot, quick pants against her throat.

"That remains to be seen," Eleanor ran her hands down his front; fingers ghosting along the buttons of his white dress shirt before coming to a rest on his belt buckle. Something had come over her. She wanted him, and she wanted him now. Every inch of her body felt like it was on fire; his touch was an accelerant.

Jasper chuckled before he pressed his lips against her throat once more. He was done talking.

Eleanor closed her eyes and allowed her body to go limp in his arms. A voice deep in the back of her head said that she was safe here, with him. There was a spark between them. A spark she never felt with Beck, not once.

"Just for the record, I never do this," he panted as she pulled his belt from his trousers and sent it clattering to the floor.

"Shut up Jasper," she rolled her eyes before reaching for the zipper on her black jeans. "Please."

He smirked. "I like the way you say my name," he said softly.

A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as he stepped between her parted thighs.

She cast a quick look down and then back up to meet his eyes and it only caused his smirk to widen. "We don't have much time. We can talk later."

"Later," he agreed, and pressed his mouth to hers once more.

* * *

 _Later_ turned into him convincing her to stay hidden up in his office until the end of his shift, shortly after 6PM. She spent a few hours fiddling around with catalogues she found in his office to watching him stroll around the store floors on the cameras from behind the desk he had fucked her on mere hours ago.

Her purse being stolen was an inconvenient blessing. She wanted to have more of him. Not on a desk above a retail store.

Behind his desk was a small sofa and she curled up on it, leaving her boots on the floor. Using his wool coat as a blanket, Eleanor snuggled into it. His scent was everywhere. On the jacket. On her. _In her._

No words had been spoken between them after their tryst. It was quick. Too quick. She wanted more. More feeling. More … _him._ Judging by the look on his face, she knew the feeling was mutual. He had smoothed her hair out and kissed her deeply. Stuffed himself back inside his trousers and helped her back into her jeans before he asked her to wait and not disappear on him again.

Eleanor found herself agreeing.

Every time he cast a look up at a camera, she knew he was looking at her. He knew she was watching. He wanted her to watch.

" _Hey sleepy head."_ A hand on her face. Fingers brushing her hair away. A thumb ran across her bottom lip; Eleanor opened her eyes as she closed her mouth around his finger.

"Hey," she croaked. Jasper pulled his hand away and leaned back against his desk, and folded his arms across his chest. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pass out like this."

Her comment only caused him to smile. "You had a big afternoon," he lamented.

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "If that's what you need to tell yourself, sure," she shot back. Stretching, she swung her legs over the side of the couch. He extended his hand to help her back on her feet. She liked the way the way that his hand felt wrapped around hers.

"About that," said Jasper carefully. "I realize we've just met- _and fucked on my desk_ \- but they're having holiday drinks downstairs and I really don't want to do this alone. And you're an event planner, right? Can't you plan an event to get us out of this early?"

"I'm just an escape route to you, aren't I?" she joked.

"Not at all," he replied. "You'd be doing me the favour, babe. I'll make it up to you later."

" _I'm going to hold you to that, Frost."_


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm sorry about this," Jasper lamented as he led her down the staircase. "It's just that Marcus saw me sneak you in, and never saw you uh … _leave_."

Eleanor shot him a dirty look. He had no idea what he had done.

His fellow employees, many of whom she suspected were naturalized British subjects- _her subjects-_ would take one look at her and call _bullshit_.

 _Was Jasper really that daft?_ If, by some miracle, they did not immediately recognize her or hit her with an ' _oh my god, has anybody ever told you that you look exactly like Princess Eleanor?!_ ' she was going to have to keep her story straight. "You'll definitely be making this up to me later, Jasper. You could have at least brought me a drink before conning me into meeting your coworkers!"

Jasper laughed, but didn't offer her any further response before grasping her wrist and forcing her to stop on the small landing just before the foot of the stairs. Turning to face her, his smile faltered upon the realization that the poorly-veiled apprehension in her voice was genuine. She wasn't smiling. "How about I make you a drink instead? I know I've ruined _some_ of your day, but the way you were saying my name earlier made it sound like you might have forgiven me."

His fingers released her wrist before trailing up her bare forearm to rest cup her elbow. "We don't have to stay late. I don't want to stay here any more than I have to," his voice lowered to just above a whisper, his blue eyes bore deeply into her own in the dim light and Eleanor couldn't find the strength to look away. He seized the opportunity to continue. "Or, I can take you home."

That was something she hadn't expected. An unexpected turn. He was more careful. She could swear he almost sounded _sad_.

"No!" exclaimed Eleanor. She was sure her eyes must have transformed from green to black in alarm. There was absolutely no way that she would allow him to drive her home, or call one of those Uber things. Eleanor knew she couldn't bring him back to the palace with her; her entire family would eat him alive without flinching. Besides, he was still completely unaware to her real identity.

Dealing with Robert was one thing.

Dealing with the press if they were to get caught was another circle of hell they would have to endure all together. ' _The Princess' new mysterious American beau!'_ She could see the headlines now. D-Throned had eyes and ears everywhere. Crenshaw had built his empire on destroying her family with his salacious expose's designed to feed his base; their favourite meal was insider scoop served hot. This particular insider turned out to be the Queen Mother herself; a stipulation of sorts from a lucrative arrangement that she finessed from the gossip rag to keep her name in a good light. "I mean, _no_ , you can't come home with me," she tried to clarify, but was failing miserably. Telling him she still lived at home sounded oddly pathetic, even if she did have an entire wing of Buckingham Palace to herself these days.

Her cheeks were burning up with each passing second, and naturally the bastard smirked before squeezing her hand reassuringly. "If you want me to leave you outside of Harrods so your driver can collect you, just say the word."

Eleanor eyed him suspiciously. "Why is it we must have a drink here, then?"

To her surprise, he pulled back and shifted his weight uncomfortably. "The women … the sales girls," he tried awkwardly. "Harper, really. She won't stop. She thinks I'm playing hard to get when the reality is I-"

Before she could stop herself, she burst out laughing. He wanted to use her as a scapegoat because he was tired of being chased by an annoying bitch downstairs.

In hindsight, fucking so quickly probably was not part of his original plan, but it was definitely part of his endgame- just as it had been hers. It had been since Eleanor first laid eyes on him through the shop window; as if he himself were the most precious item in the bloody building. The way that he was looking at her right now was making her feel like it was she was the precious jewel he was protecting. Even if he didn't know it, Jasper Frost was doing a fine job of guarding her body with his own.

The thought only made her smirk widen.

He was staring at her with both eyebrows raised waiting for her to explain her outburst.

"Let me get this straight," she began once she collected herself. "You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend so a shop assistant will stop pestering you?" Her tone was full of mock seriousness as she flung her long hair over her shoulder.

"I said nothing about a girlfriend," he dismissed.

"But that's what you were implying, wasn't it Jasper?" Eleanor shot back, folding her arms across her chest.

"Are you always this stubborn? Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. " _Matilda, will you please pretend to be my date-"_

" _-girlfriend-"_ she corrected.

"Girlfriend," Jasper repeated, reaching for her intently to bring her back into his embrace. "Just enough to get her off my back. _Please_ ,"

"And you'll get me on mine later if you're lucky," replied Eleanor as she reached up to run her thumb along his rough cheek.

"Oh, I intend to," he whispered huskily against her ear; his lips grazed along her hair as his hand moved from its place on her waist to roughly cup her backside before he spun her towards the exit.

Jasper's hand was quick to rise from her ass to the small of her back as he pushed the door open. They were immediately greeted by a round of 'hellos' and surprised looks from nearly every set of eyes in the room.

"Told you he snuck a woman upstairs!" a faceless, loud-whisper rang out over the chatter.

Immediately, Eleanor's jaw dropped as she turned to Jasper, whose fingers had since gone rigid against her back.

"Thank you Marcus," Jasper was quick to retort through gritted teeth; Eleanor, meanwhile, took the opportunity to chance a quick look around the room; her body was tense with apprehension.

 _All it would take was one lingering glance…_

"Not that it's _any_ of your concerns, this is my _friend_ , Matilda Roberts."

"How about that drink, _friend_?" she murmured. Eleanor placed her hand on his arm

"It would be my pleasure," he agreed as both of their eyes honed in on an open bottle of Grey Goose was sitting on a nearby display case.

Thankfully, the windows at the front of the store had a grate over the front for security, thus keeping them shielded from the prying eyes of the public and their smartphones. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, Eleanor felt like she could relax and have some real _fun_.

* * *

"It's Matilda, right?" The leggy dark haired woman Jasper had raised an eyebrow to earlier was now at her side. More than once had she caught her staring at them. Only now that Jasper left her side to use the bathroom did she find it the right time to strike.

"Yes, hello," she lifted her red plastic cup to her lips as they locked eyes. The other woman stuck her hand out and Eleanor stared at it. _Did she honestly-_

"I'm Harper. Harper Day, I'm the assistant store manager." Harper seized the opportunity to introduce herself, and Eleanor realized that yes, she was going to have to shake this woman's hand and pretend to be impressed by her assertion of dominance. This had to be the bint Jasper was desperate to pry away from his dick.

Seizing her hand and gripping it firmly, Eleanor smiled sweetly. "Pleasure," she replied.

"So, how did you meet _Frosty_?"

Eleanor blinked and stared at her. Was she that fucking stupid? Or was she trying to be funny? _Frosty? As in Frosty the Snowman?_ "Excuse me?" she replied incredulously, pulling her hand back.

"How did you meet Jasper? Jasper _Frost_?" Harper laughed, although it didn't quite meet her eyes. "A poor play on words, I guess. He's usually so stoic; I'm dying to know how it is you two met. He's never mentioned anyone before."

Eleanor fought the urge to roll her eyes; this one was really laying it on thick. Perhaps if she played dumb enough with this Harper, she could convince her to let it slip what was in the basement vaults that she could make a pitch for with Jasper later.

Later, after she sexed him into a coma. After she sexed him into such a heightened state of bliss and contentment, she would reveal her true-self to him.

"It was a spur of the moment type thing," she said, offering her a brief smile before reaching for the bottle of vodka behind her. She had been raised to drink alongside men; choosing to splash it over ice instead of mixing. Eleanor could feel the other woman's eyes on her as she mixed her drink.

"On Tinder?" Harper inquired bluntly.

Eleanor averted her eyes and bit her lip. " _Mm…_ " she hummed, "yes, that. Jasper and I met on _the Tinder_ ; he's only told me his last name the few times," she lied hastily.

"Clearly I'm looking in the wrong post code," she winked reaching to tuck a lock of her short, wavy brown hair behind her ear."Where is it you live?"

"SW1," replied Eleanor distractedly. She cast a look over her shoulder, and she could see that Jasper had finally made his reappearance, and was talking to the man he had introduced as Marcus. "Excuse me," she added, and spun around with her drink still clutched tightly in her hands, determined to make her way to his side once again.

She could see why Jasper wasn't fond of lingering.

" _...we met in Harrods on my break-"_

He hadn't noticed her yet because he had his back to her, but she could hear the conversation between the two men. Eleanor stepped to the side, and hid herself alongside a tall antique display case that housed an assortment of heavy diamond necklaces.

Marcus choked on his drink.

Eleanor held hers so tight the plastic began to crack under pressure..

"Have you gone mad, mate? You just met this girl and decided to bring her back _here_? Did you pay her off to pry Harper from your cock?"

Her eyes widened.

Although she couldn't see it, the same astonished expression was mirrored on Jasper's face. His fist slammed down on the glass display case he was leaning against. She flinched.

"Jesus, Marcus. _Have some fucking respect, will you?_ I ran into her when I was on the phone. she was at the front of the Starbucks line, so I used her to cut in. Matilda's so fucking gorgeous I couldn't _not_ ask her to have a coffee," he explained once he had calmed himself down. She was thankful that he was glossing over the more finer details of their meeting. Details she would make sure they both took to the grave. "And then, her purse was stolen, and I felt bad so I told her she could hang out in my office and I would drive her home."

Marcus chuckled. "I'm sure you will, Jasper. I'm sure you will."

"Starting to regret coming here, you know. I should have just gone to New York," he groaned.

She had heard enough.

Stepping out from her hiding spot, Eleanor cleared her throat as she moved into Jasper's side. He moved to adjust sling his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close.

"The damsel in distress herself," Marcus chuckled, raising his cup to her in a mock toast before taking a long drink from the cup. His gaze remained unwavering the entire time as Jasper scowled in silence next to him. "What is you do again, Matilda? You look familiar. Have you been in here before? You have such an elegant neck; any of our pieces in here would look _stunning_ on you," his tone lowered as his free hand ghosted over his own collarbone for further emphasis. "Don't you agree, Mr. Frost?"

Jasper's hand tensed on her shoulder. _Was he really going to hit on her right in front of him?_

"Oh, no. I haven't stepped foot in here for nearly 5 years. My father commissioned a ti- a … _necklace_ for my birthday. Family set, only girl … you know how rich people can be," she replied, attempting to remain vague.

"The rich do love their diamonds," laughed Marcus. "On the downlow- several historic pieces will be coming out of the vaults. Tiaras that were once possessed by Russian and German monarchies- pre-war, might I add- were updated and given to our royal family on loan for the Snow Ball at the palace. Gifts for his wife and sister. _How kind._ Also kind of them for allowing Mr. Frost here to use his own security at the event too. Thanks to King Robert's generosity, we've all gotten sizable bonus' this holiday!"

"To King Robert!" He hollered out suddenly, raising his cup.

" _LONG LIVE THE KING!"_ A cheery, broken chorus broke out throughout the store mingled with several loud exclamations of 'hear hear!'.

Eleanor blinked in surprise; this was news to her. Robbie hadn't said a single bloody thing about giving her a tiara to wear. "Is that so," she said interestedly; Jasper slid his hand down her arm to rest on her waist to pull her attention back to him.

"How about I go and grab our coats?" said Jasper suddenly; his voice was suspiciously low, nonetheless Eleanor had an idea as to what- _nay, whom-_ his eyes were focused on over her shoulder. "Stay here and finish your drink with Marcus," he told here. There was no room for argument.

Eleanor laid a dainty hand on his chest, and took a half-step towards him. "We really should get going, _Jas-pah_. We do have those reservations," she agreed, arching an eyebrow.

"Right," agreed Jasper, playing along. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she reached forward to boldly wrap a hand around the nape of his neck to pull him in close, and pressed her lips firmly to his.

It was obvious that the action had caught him off guard. For a fraction of a second, his lips remained stiff and unyielding beneath hers before he returned her kiss; drawing her bottom lip between his teeth. A ghost of tongue.

In that moment, time seemed infinite and neither she nor Jasper cared that they were putting on a display in front of all of his co-workers for the sake of one. In those few moments she had interacted with the other woman, Eleanor felt territorial. In her eyes, if he truly wanted Harper, he would have gone for it by now. Jasper Frost was a sickeningly handsome man who exuberated confidence and it would be hard for any right minded man or woman to not want to shoot their shot.

Unfortunately for all of them, including the man himself, she was a Princess.

Eleanor was _the_ Princess, and she didn't ever _not_ get what she wanted.

* * *

As quickly as he accepted her kiss, he ended it. She reluctantly admitted to herself that was for the best; discretion was key at this point. The little bit of sky she had seen earlier was dark and her bodyguard, James, would definitely know she had slipped him by now. It wasn't the first time she had done it and likely wouldn't be the last, but they had an understanding. He would give her the space she wanted. All she had to do was

things became too heated and they began to make a spectacle of themselves, Eleanor knew he would well make it up to her later.

Assuring her he would be right back, he squeezed her hand, and took off across the store to head back to his tiny office.

Eleanor cleared her throat and took a long pull from her vodka soda. She was disinclined to turn her attention back to Marcus, but she was left with no choice. With Jasper gone and several pairs of eyes now on her, she couldn't afford to let everything fall apart now.

"How did you and Jasper meet?" she asked innocently. Eleanor assumed Jasper's spot next to the display case, hoping that he believed their facade was real enough to spill the tea on his so-called ' _mate'._

"Harry, our former head of security, decided he wanted to retire right before the holidays. The bloody bugger supposed to go in February. I'm actually his second. I didn't want the job. Too stressful. My wife Gemma and I are having a baby now. So we had to bring someone in quick, and that someone turned out to be Jasper. He wanted a transfer out of the Vegas location. So he came overseas to talk to the manager for the position. Grumpiest bugger I've ever set my eyes on," Marcus began. There was a soft twinkle in his eye as he recalled the memory; almost as if he were sharing a private joke with himself over the incident.

"Jasper?" exclaimed Eleanor in surprise.

"Mmhmm," he confirmed. "I saw his CV. Smart as a whip. He got an MBA from one of those big schools in the States. Used to do security operations on the strip, apparently. He later said it was making him miserable watching crooks and cons from behind a screen and that's how he ended up at Harry Winston."

"So Jasper is from Las Vegas?" she said interestedly. A place she had been barred from. Only she, though. Her brothers were allowed. Her mother had been mortified that it was going to be her royal beaver on the cover of the American tabloids, but instead it was Liam, and his crown jewels. Liam and his friends had gone on an excursion. He was shady about what his ultimate destination was to the King and Queen; they would never approve. They were barely allowed to go to Monte Carlo as it were. Fortunately Albert, the Crown Prince of Monaco, was a close family friend and was always more than kind to keep their names out of his papers if the Henstridge Monarchy returned the favour.

Somehow, someone- in the haze of all the liquor and drugs- thought that it would be a good idea for the lot of them to play strip snooker.

Naturally, camera phones were involved and no less than ten hours later was her brother's untoned, royal ass all over the papers.

Eleanor smiled at the memory. For the first time in a long time, the wrath of Queen Helena Henstridge had not been focused on her.

"Yup," he confirmed, narrowing his eyes. "Didn't tell you that yet, huh?"

"I just assumed he was from New York," she replied dismissively. "I told that one we met on Tinder, though. Right, so Jasper. Grumpy. Guy from Vegas who likes protecting things," She flicked her eyes over in Harper's direction.

"He was headhunted by corporate in NYC. They wanted him there, in a bigger job. But he said no. Said Samantha didn't want to move."

Her eyebrows shot up in alarm. "Samantha?"

 _Samantha_ was a name she definitely did not recall hearing him say before.

Marcus cleared his throat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. Perhaps he had said too much. They both knew that this wasn't his story to tell, but it was too late now.

"Well," he began, lowering his voice. "They were supposed to be married. He used to work for her father, until he quit. She hung around a little bit longer, until money started getting tighter because they were no longer living for free under her father's roof. She shows up at the store one day, and tells him she didn't sign on for some guy who thinks protecting diamonds was a worthwhile career. Didn't matter if he was happier or not. And that, as they say, was that. Just before Christmas."

Eleanor drainked the rest of the contents of her cup and set it down on the shelf next to her. "So," she frowned, "she just left?"

"Rumour has it, he went back to her place to get his shit, and his dad was there..."

"No!" she exclaimed, clasping a hand over her mouth. In shock or disgust, she wasn't completely sure.

Marcus nodded his head solemnly. "It wasn't pretty. So, he came here and took Harry's job. Wanted to get as far away from them as he could, I think. Mostly keeps to himself and organizes shipments and transports and oversees everything here. I wouldn't want to be the bastard who ever crosses him, I'll tell you that, Ms. Roberts."

"I don't even want to know what you've been telling her," Jasper's voice rang out from behind her. Eleanor snapped her neck around to see him striding towards her wearing his own jacket, completely buttoned with his leather messenger bag slung across his chest as he held her trench and bag securely in his arms.

Eleanor couldn't help the wide, wicked grin that spread across her face as he approached them. Setting her bag down on top of the display case, he held her jacket up for her to slide her arms into. "Thank you," she said gratefully.

"My pleasure," he said lowly against her ear as he helped her pull her long, dark hair over the collar.

"I can't wait to hear the actual story of how you two met someday. I'm totally not buying the 'we just met in Harrods' story. Nope. Not at all," Marcus shook his head at the sight of them.

"You'll be disappointed," Jasper winked as she lifted her bag over her head and adjusted it across her body. "I'm famished, babe. I'm sure there are better places with better drinks."

Marcus scoffed, and then drained his own cup and slammed it down. "I should be going myself, I don't want to leave Gemma alone too late."

The two of them rushed through a half-wave of a goodbye- the kind of departure her mother would have been mortified to see in such a place- and were finally released into the cool London evening.

Eleanor exhaled loudly as Jasper steered them down the street. Their destination was unclear to her, but he was holding her hand all the same.

"It's mild. We can take a walk down along the South Bank," she suggested. "There's a Christmas market with all sorts of food stalls and pop up restaurants."

"Hmm," Jasper hummed next to her. "That is conveniently close to my condo."

"That's all the more reason for us to go then, isn't it? You did say you wanted to see more of the city. Marcus said you're a workaholic and that's why it was such a shock for you to be the company of _anybody,_ let alone somebody as _fucking gorgeous_ as me," she continued, squeezing his hand.

"Heard that, did you?"

She smiled sweetly as his icy blue gaze cast a quick look in her direction. His expression might have been stoic, but Eleanor swore that she could see the edges of his ears tinge a shade of pink that could only be associated with embarrassment. "Come on," she lamented. "I could have said no. I wanted to have coffee with you. I thought you were hot."

"Were?" he cocked an eyebrow.

"Shut up," she said dismissively and bumped his shoulder with hers before her tone became serious. "I see what you're doing, Jasper. because I do it. I throw myself into my work to make myself forget too. Marcus told me that you were a grump when you first arrived here."

He chuckled, although the lopsided smile on his face didn't quite meet his eyes. Jasper used his free hand to reach up and run his fingers through his coarse, blonde hair. "Some days, it feels like I'm banging my head against a wall. No matter what I do. No matter how hard I work. It's hard to be chipper when you haven't felt like getting up in the morning."

She and Jasper fell into a comfortable silence, each mulling the impact of his words.

When she and Beck broke up, all she wanted to do was disappear. She wanted to take off to Paris. Her instinct was always Paris.

But this time, Robbie was the King of England, not their father.

Robbie knew first hand how self-destructive she used to be, and her nightlife in Paris played a large role in that. How many male models had she been spotted with and linked to? _In more ways than one?_

Robbie forbade her to leave the country without his permission. That he would not stand for that anymore. He wasn't going to lose his baby sister to that lifestyle, and a rigorous, royal schedule combined with planning an entire charity ball should have been more than enough to keep Her Highness occupied.

It didn't matter how hard she worked; her heart was still lonely. Work would never be able to fill the void that had been there longer than she wanted to admit to.

Jasper was brave. He took the opportunity to start over. To give himself a fresh start away from everything that was causing him stress.

A second chance.

She envied him.

True freedom was something she would never experience. Right now, however, she had a taste. A taste that was making her feel things in her stomach, and it wasn't because he rearranged her insides earlier although it was certainly a perk.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** thank you to everyone that has read/reviewed this story and my previous works. Your support means more to me than you'll ever know. I have formed invaluable relationships from this fandom that I will treasure forever; you know who you are. Thank you for encouraging me to write and being a voice in an otherwise dismal time. Take care. xx

* * *

The Kingdom had been blessed with a mild December this year and Eleanor found herself foregoing her usual complaints about the chill in the air and how it was time for she and Liam to take off to the family's private estate in southern France.

Better yet, jet off to Monte Carlo to 'spend time' with her grandmother, the Grand Duchess of Oxford. In her advanced age, Duchess Alexandra had taken to spending her winters in warmer climates; preferably in the homes of other, single affluent men. Her grandmother had provided she and Liam with a cover story while they had gone out and partied on more than one occasion, without their respective security details.

Instead, she pretended that she wasn't pleased by the warmth radiating from the man at her side as they walked briskly towards the Winter Market that popped up annually alongside London's iconic South Bank. The closer they became, the foot traffic alongside them became thicker and thicker. Jasper seized the opportunity to close the remaining distance between them; they walked in sync, hand in hand; shoulder to shoulder. He held her hand tighter, occasionally running his thumb along hers. If he could sense her nervousness from the crowd, he didn't let it show.

Eleanor knew that it wasn't fair to keep her true identity hidden from him. Especially if he thought that this had a chance of going anywhere. Robert would have a stroke at the thought of her bringing home an _American_ after the stunt that Liam was currently pulling. Right or wrong, she wasn't ready to give all of this up just yet and she was going to be selfish, just this once.

The pair of them had fallen into a comfortable silence, each taking in the sights and sounds. The English sycamores the lined the South Bank embankment were usually bare at this time of year and the city had taken advantage of it by adorning them with thousands of strings of twinkling lights, bathing the river's edge in a warm glow.

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Eleanor as they rounded the corner to the promenade. Nestled in the centre, amongst a sea of brightly coloured tents and market stalls was a group of carol singers. Eleanor smiled as they approached, their singing becoming louder and more clear. She leaned in closer to Jasper as he looked at her, his handsome face a mix of confusion and amusement. "It looks exactly like I remember! My dad used to _sn-_ bring my brothers and I here when we were children," she explained sheepishly as they paused to listen to the remaining few bars of ' _Carol of the Bells'._ The song reminded her of her father, the late King Simon. It's heavy, dramatic instrumentals had always been his favourite. More than once she could recall seeing his fingers drumming on his knee along with the rhythm at the annual Royal Christmas Variety.

Since becoming king himself, Robert had made a point to have the song omitted from the line up earlier in the month. She knew that prior to their father's death, they hadn't been on good terms for reasons that were still unbeknownst to her. She recalled how their mother had tutted in the shadows; there was nothing that Queen Helena could do to override her son's demand. Another scenario where she had forcibly been reminded that she was no longer the reigning Queen of England.

Helena and her upper-class problems were the least of her concerns at the moment. Eleanor didn't dwell in her nostalgia long; the man next to her had found his opportunity to get her to open up to him more.

"Your dad?" Jasper replied interestedly as they paused in front of a stall selling coffee. "I could use a cup, how about you?"

"Tea, please," she interjected, locking eyes with the older man behind the counter. His eyes crinkled upon the realization of their mismatched accents. "I'm not much of a coffee drinker. You should know that," Eleanor continued playfully, bumping her shoulder with hers.

"Right," he chuckled, averting his eyes. _Was it possible that Jasper was nervous?_

"A proper English rose," the barista winked, sliding two paper cups across the wooden bar. "You're very lucky!"

" _Oh, we're not-"_

" _-she isn't-"_

She and Jasper immediately blurted denials over one another before abruptly stopped; both had realized that just mere moments before, they had been holding hands, and likely still would be if Jasper hadn't needed to reach for his wallet.

Jasper smiled sheepishly as he handed over a ten pound note. Eleanor could feel his eyes on her as she methodically added a splash of milk to her tea before carefully pressing down the plastic lid.

"Thank you. This blend is delicious," Eleanor praised, taking note of the name written above the stall. _Simon's Social Tea._ "My father's name was Simon."

"Used to work for the King. King Simon," he recalled fondly, thumbing to a photo of her father- his last official portrait- that was hanging on the inside wall. "Chose to retire from his Equerry staff shortly after his death, bless his soul. No well in Hell I would have served that brother of his, innit?

"Anyway dove, that blend is a chinese black tea leaf, with a hint of cocoa. King Simon always did like _just_ a hint of sweetness. Used to say it was why he only had one girl, more than one would be too much sweetness!"

Eleanor smiled over her cup, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. The way she described her father's mannerisms and preferences were correct. Although she didn't recognize the man, Eleanor knew that once things settled after the holidays, she would make it her personal mission to put the Royal Warrant on this tea booth if it were the last thing she did whether her brother liked it or not.

"King Simon was a good man and I'm sure he would have loved the gesture," replied Eleanor kindly.

The man nodded his agreement. "He was. As is his son, Robert. A fine King with a beautiful Queen. His father would be proud, just as his people are. Long live the King!" he added with a hearty chuckle, and raised his mug of beer in their direction as they pulled away.

"Long live the King!" Eleanor lifted her cup in a mock toast, a small smile playing across her lips as she turned to rejoin Jasper's side. Conversation with patrons had always come easy for her; a trait that she knew that Robert had always been envious of. Liam, bless his heart, tended to think with the head between his thighs instead of the one on his shoulders and often blurted the wrong thing at most inappropriate time. There was a reason _why_ Cyrus had been the one doing rural tours even though the twins were of age to travel alone.

They held eyes for a beat too long, and she knew that he _knew_. Eleanor could see the mischievous glint in the older man's eye; she foolishly hoped it was from the beer that he and his mates were drinking in the back, and not because he had just won a couple of hundred quid for giving _D-Throned_ a Princess Eleanor sighting. If he truly did work under her father, and Truman by association, he would have recognized her immediately, and kept a sensible head in his retirement and would stay mum on the princess being incognito and on the arm of a new, unidentified beau.

For once, she was being recognized for being on someone's arm. They weren't on hers.

Jasper Frost accompanied by Eleanor Henstridge. Almost _; Matilda Roberts_ was had now become an inconvenient cog in her wheel. Eleanor knew that when they did get back to his condo, she didn't want to have him breathing her ghastly middle name against her ear. She wanted to hear her real name fall from his mouth.

"Jasper, stop," Eleanor blurted out as she reached forward and grabbed his free hand. "I- I've been lying to you. If we're going back to your condo, I need to come clean with you about something."

His hand, which had previously wrapped itself around hers, became rigid. She refused to let him go, and stubbornly held his gaze. His bright, baby blue eyes were darkening, and not in the way she wanted. "What is it?" he said coldly, wrenching his arm free from her grasp. It was fruitless for her to try and hold on; she had seen his muscles. His strength was no match for her. "Do you have a boyfriend or something? Because if that's what this is Matilda, I'm not that kind of guy-"

"My name isn't Matilda," she interrupted, talking over him in a hushed, firm tone and took a step forward to close the distance between them. Eleanor grabbed ahold of the lapel of his wool coat, holding him in place. "My name is Eleanor. Eleanor Matilda Roberts. I didn't know you if you were going to perv me or not so I gave the barista my middle name. I saw you come into the Starbucks in the reflection on the glass."

He didn't relax as she expected him to, and that alarmed her. He continued to stare, and she decided to keep talking.

"Jasper," she moistened her lips and tried again. "That's it. I'm sorry. My name is Eleanor but my friends and family call me Len. _Lenny_. I will answer to all three. But I can't fuck you and have you say my middle name while you cum again. _I can't._ I don't have a boyfriend. I had a fiance. I left him four months ago because he asked me to marry him and I said _no_. I've spent the last four months working and not doing anything else until I met you and I don't want to let this go yet. I'm sorry I lied-"

" _Eleanor_ ," he cut in. Jasper lifted his hand to her face and cupped her cheek in his hand, effectively silencing her. She froze; she liked the way that he said her name with his mother tongue. It rolled smoothly off of his tongue; husky and rushed. _El-in-or_.

"Eleanor," she confirmed slowly. Annunciated each syllable on purpose. His expression was still guarded at as he stared at her. Waiting for her to crack with something else.

" _Eleanor_ ," repeated Jasper. His hand was still on her face. Burning her as he gently stroked her cheek.

"I like the way you say my name," said Eleanor. Sliding her hand up his chest, she coiled it around his neck and leaned forward as if she were going to kiss him, but paused when they were millimeters apart. The crowd moved around them, and neither seemed to care. For a moment, she was fearful that he was going to leave. The backstory surrounding Jasper's employment that Marcus supplied sounded dubious at best. _But what if it were true?_

The thought of her widowed, horny mother making a move on Jasper behind her back made her feel sick to her stomach. Made her want to keep him- _this-_ hidden for as long as she possibly could before the monarchy and her status ruined it, as it did everything else.

" _Eleanor,"_ he said again; his voice huskier this time. His soft lips puckered against hers as he spoke, but he too refused to close the distance.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and Eleanor pressed her lips firmly against his. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, anchoring her body against his as he returned her kiss. Someone in the distance whistled loudly and they sprung apart, bringing them crashing back down to Earth. Eleanor buried her face in his chest; partially from embarrassment and partially out of fear of being recognized.

Neither of them noticed the silver-haired man holding two pairs of skates and his little girl watching them with a curious expression.

"Let's get out of here, and we can talk at my place? Where it's warm? I know I promised you a meal, but we can order in?" he suggested, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as they turned away.

"Please," she agreed. Eleanor felt her body relaxing as she moulded hers into his side, and laid her head on his shoulder. She took another sip of her tea, and smiled to herself.

Inside, she was terrified.

Her concern over losing a man she had _just_ met was highly out of character. Even long before she became involved with Beck, she was more of a use em' and leave em' kind of woman. More than enough male models and actors had done the walk of shame from the Palace. Some had been public, others had been not.

She would always recall the one who was so frightened of the King of England that he had made himself a bedsheet rope to escape without being seen. Unfortunately for him, he had been sighted by a group of tourists on the palace grounds and it had spread like wildfire over twitter. The Palace, on the advice of Rachel, who was acting on council of Queen Helena, chose not to comment, only that it was an 'internal matter' that was being dealt with privately by private security.

By private security, the statement had meant she herself sitting down in her mother's office to be berated for being a slut. She was better than a common slut. She was a princess, and princesses, according to Queen Helena, were not to be slutty.

She wasn't slutty.

She was a woman who knew what she wanted, and preferred to get off by an actual dick than a mechanical one.

Queen Helena had not been partial to that answer.

She had been young once too, but Eleanor knew she had spent her youth fulfilling her mother's bidding and making herself available for the bachelor King of England. Eleanor knew that her mother didn't fully love her father; she loved the status and everything that he brought with it. Simon loved her, but she loved another more.

Her mother's affair with her former lover was a well known secret within the palace walls.

Careers and lives would ruin if anything had ever been breathed to the press. It would surely be the end of the monarchy.

Perhaps her having a change of heart and dating a common, American man was exactly what she needed.

Robbie would understand, in time. Provided she didn't get pregnant.

Liam had fucked up enough as it were, and Eleanor knew that the family's redemption was now resting on _her_ shoulders.

She wanted Jasper, it was true. The reality of their situation was that they barely knew each other. Would he still want her after he found out what she was? Who she was? Being in a relationship with her would demand a lifestyle change and put his entire life under a microscope, including his past in Las Vegas.

Whatever did or didn't happen, Eleanor had to hear it from him. Had to.

"I don't do this," she told him, breaking the heavy silence between them. Eleanor cast a brief look up at him, but Jasper was staring straight ahead although he now held her hand tightly in his.

"I think whatever this is is beyond _that_ ," he replied, looking down to briefly lock eyes with her. "All I know babe is that I can't let you go. Not yet."

Eleanor smiled. "The feeling is mutual."

" _Good. It's not far now, trust me."_

* * *

The fact that his mattress was lumpy and old (by her standards) was not the reason why she couldn't sleep. Eleanor lay on her side, watching Jasper's chest rise and fall peacefully in sleep next to her. She clutched his grey duvet to her chest as she watched him, her brow furrowed.

She wanted to wake him. She wanted to tell him.

She knew that she couldn't.

Everything had been perfect. They had returned to his condo; a modest 18th-floor 2-bedroom flat in a building along the Thames. A new development; she was fully appreciative of the modernity and the view that accompanied it. He ordered chinese and they ate it on his leather sofa and watched reruns of _Royal and Beautiful_ at her request and by all accounts had acted like a perfect gentleman for the first episode and part of the second before he couldn't hide his disdain any longer.

Eleanor could feel his eyes on her, although she kept hers facing the television. He whispered in her ear that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Later in the evening; in the darkness of his bedroom as he drifted off to sleep next to her, Jasper begged her to not disappear on him. As if he could sense she was going to bolt the second she was sure he was asleep.

James was going to be less than impressed with this late night intrusion, but at least she was somewhere safe and relatively near home. He would want her back in the palace before the sun rose; the time was highly inconvenient for questions to be popping up from both family and press about with whom and where she had been spending her nights. Her schedule was filled from mid-morning to well into the evening. She and Willow needed to finalize the the menu for the Snow Ball the following evening. Her relationship with her sister-in-law had gotten off to a rocky start, but soon after the wedding- the reception, actually, both had gotten incredibly pissed and bonded over the burger truck that she herself had brought in as a gift to the bride and groom, knowing full well that the catered dinner would not be enough to counteract the open bar.

And now, she still wasn't quite ready to fess up the reason _why_ she decided to play hookey and fuck off from James for the first time in months so she could shag a stranger who claimed that he didn't recognize her.

Eleanor stared at his sleeping form; mesmerized by the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest. His breathing was steady and he didn't snore. She felt as if she could watch him forever; the thought of him lying next to her in her king sized bed back at the palace was nothing more than an unattainable dream. Robert would never sanction their relationship. Not with the way things were currently with Liam.

It was with that thought she carefully moved her slender body out from beneath his duvet.

At the foot of the bed, she could make out Jasper's crumpled dress shirt and her red knickers. Her bralette had to be somewhere between the sitting room and bedroom, and she hoped she would find it along the way. She had noticed a wireless phone in the kitchen, and she would be able to call James from the powder room on the first floor.

Eleanor carefully bent down and gathered the ball of fabric into her arms and crossed the room in three strides on the tips of her toes, light as a fairy. In this moment, she was grateful that her mother had forced her into ballet as a girl. Casting a final, sad look over her shoulder, she hesitated in the doorway. A small part of her wanted to stay. A large part of her prayed that he would wake up and talk her back into bed. That she didn't have anything to be scared of.

That he would stay hidden from her brother, the King of England, until he died or was dethroned, whichever came first.

She wasn't sure if her family would be so willing to let an American into their fold after what happened the last time with her great uncle. Thankfully, this one never made it to the altar, and was not divorced. Jasper didn't have social climbing ambitions. None that she could tell, anyway. For all she knew once he found out who she really was, things would change. He would sell their story for a book. There would be a tour.

Her life would be ruined.

Robert would surely lock her in the Tower of London.

Eleanor scoffed at the thought. _As if_. She knew damn well that she had her elder brother wrapped around her finger; it had been that way since the day she was born. She was the only girl. The youngest daughter. The princess.

When push came to shove, Eleanor knew full well that even Robert's mercy had a limit, and his limit with his sister was reached the minute she declined Beck's marriage proposal.

Because best friends, or something. She could see it reflected in his eyes. A deal had been misconstrued because of her. Beck was expected to become a prince; a rare gift that was reserved for someone as privileged as he.

Jasper remained motionless on the far right side of the bed, his sleep undisturbed by her departure. Eleanor pulled the door closed, and quickly pulled on her underwear and his button down. His starched dress shirt was soft and hung loose on her lithe figure. Her fingers did the buttons up halfway as she descended down the staircase. His scent surrounded her and she found the sandalwood and bergamot of his cologne comforting.

Entering the small, galley kitchen Eleanor's eyes flitted over to the range; the time flashed back at her: 4:40am.

James was definitely going to have some choice words for her. James didn't care that she was royalty. He treated her as if she were his own flesh and blood. A feeling she had not been used to in a while. Despite his very best efforts at parenting from afar, King Simon couldn't contain tame her wild ways, either. He thought she was acting out. In reality, he didn't understand what had happened to his sweet little girl.

She pondered the same thing herself more than once before snorting a line of cocaine through a twenty-pound note with her father's face on it.

Rolled face facing inside, always.

Eleanor plucked the phone of it's dock, and a piece of mail that was sitting unopened on the granite countertop. Padding her way down the darkened hallway, she felt around for the handle, her fingers finally closing around the smooth handle. Letting herself inside, she was thankful for the small nightlight. She turned on the sink, and sat down on the edge of the tub, and turned on the phone.

She had lied to him earlier. She had James' number memorized. Of course she did. Had to.

" _Hill."_

"It's me," she said softly, her voice hoarse from sleep.

James didn't reply immediately, instead a long, exasperated sigh waifed through the earpiece and Eleanor couldn't help but roll her eyes. And he thought she was dramatic.

" _Of all the times-"_

"James, save it for the car," Eleanor interjected as she turned over the invoice on her bare knees. "This is where I am. It's not far."

He told her to be outside in ten minutes, and disconnected the call without another word.

Eleanor closed her eyes, and inhaled a deep breath. She felt the hot tears spill over, and curse herself as she haphazardly wiped them away. She wasn't going to cry over a man she barely knew. She couldn't.

She turned off the tap and slipped back into the hallway, and stood motionless, listening for any signs of movement from upstairs, but it never came. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she located her trench coat and shrugged it on over her shoulders, and tied the sash tightly around her waist. She peered into the den, but amongst the pillows and blanket on the floor, she couldn't locate her jeans. It was fruitless.

James was going to murder her. It was mid-December, and she was clearly freshly-fucked. Wearing nothing but a men's button down and a trench coat.

If James didn't berate her on sight, her mother certainly would. Thankfully, Helena would never have the chance. If she found out that James lost track of her and that she took off with a strange American man, on purpose, neither would see the light of day again. Robert's wrath be damned.

Her hat, she had come to realize, was still back in Jasper's office at Harry Winston.

And there it would have to stay, she decided.

On a hook by the staircase, a plain, black ball cap hung alone. She swiped it without a second thought, and put it on her head, shielding her face in case the worst did happen.

Eleanor took one last long, lingering look up the stairs, and bit her lip.

" _Don't disappear on me,"_ he had pleaded.

All he had to do was look, and he would find her.

She prayed he wouldn't take too long.

* * *

" _She's been in a right mood for the last two days."_

" _Is she trying to quit smoking again?"_

" _Is she on the rag?"_

For the last two days, she could hear the whispers amongst her family, and the staff. She was unusually quiet. Moody. Snappish.

Nothing was good enough for her. _Nothing_. Willow knew something was up, but she didn't press. Instead Eleanor allowed her to take the reigns of the final preparations for the ball, and allowed her to retire to her room. She would come to her when she was ready. Eleanor had trust issues; she never did have much luck with authentic friends and she was naturally wary of her brother's new bride, regardless of how smitten he was.

And now, she stood staring moodily at her reflection; she was wearing a silver-sequined gown and her hair was styled back in a messy, loose bun. Her makeup was done tastefully. She knew she looked good, and despite it she was nervous. It was her first public appearance in months since she declined Beck's proposal.

Within hours, her face was going to be plastered all over the internet with the tiara Robert was to be gifting her.

Eleanor moodily sipped her champagne; just what she needed. To be photographed in a Harry Winston couture piece that Robert had specifically picked out for her.

She wished she had time to-

A loud knock on her bedroom door broke her out of her internal musings, and she flinched, nearly spilling her champagne over her dress.

" _Eleanor? Are you decent?"_

"Metaphorically speaking, no I am not," she shouted back as she threw back the rest of her drink, and purposefully slammed the crystal flute down on her dressing table.

She could practically see Robert's eye roll in her mind's eye.

"Can you come out here? Or are you going to stay in your closet all night? I've got something for you."

"I'm sure you do," she muttered under her breath.

She took one final look at her reflection. Swiping her pinky finger along her lower lip to fix her gloss, she spun on her heel and crossed the threshold back into her room, eyebrows raised.

Across the room, standing next to her brother holding a black, wooden box in his linen-gloved hands, was Jasper.

If he recognized her, he didn't let it show. His face was stoic and expressionless as he stared at her. He was looking at her, and he wasn't all at the same time.

"What do you want?" she asked rudely, putting her hand on her hip as she stood next to her bed.

"I've brought you something," he gestured to the box in Jasper's hands, a wide smile on his face. "I don't know what's put you in such a state these last few days, but I hope this helps. Recovered from the last German dynasty. The Mountbatten Star Tiara has been underground for nearly fifty years, Lenny."

Her eyes flickered over to the box. Damn. He did know her well.

"Smile Lenny, it's Christmas. It's your favourite holiday."

 _Lenny_.

The corner of Jasper's mouth twitched. She saw it, and she knew that he knew that she saw it.

She had been caught.

His fingers moved over the golden clasp on the front of the box, and lifted the lid. Nestled amongst blue velvet, was the tiara in question, and even more beautiful than the pictures she had seen of it. She'd had her eye on it in the past, but hadn't put the effort in to track it down. Had it actually belonged to someone else and not pilfered from post-wartime spoils, she was sure she'd never have a chance like this.

Being a Princess did have its occasional privileges.

"Thank you, Robbie. It's lovely."

"You've got to be kidding me," Jasper exclaimed as realization dawned on him. "This is what you were hiding? This is why you left, _Eleanor_?"

Robert's jaw dropped as he looked between the two, racking his brain for how the pair could possibly know each other given their respective capacities. "Mr. Frost, you will refer to my sister as _Princess Eleanor,_ " Robert rounded on him, but Eleanor took a step forward and held her hand up.

"Robbie, shut up. It's fine. We've met before."

"You've met before?" he scoffed in disbelief.

Eleanor stared at her brother, her eyes narrowing. "Get out of my room, Robbie. In here you're my brother first, and my king second. I am grateful for your gift and I will wear it, but _Jasper_ and I have to talk. I'm sure his hands are more than capable of fixing a tiara on my head. _He's wearing linen,_ " she added.

"You've got some explaining to do. Whatever this is, stays in this room. You will not let the press-"

"Get out," she cut him off, her voice raising an octave.

Roberts mouth snapped shut; he recognized the tone in her voice and knew well enough to not get on his sister's bad side during a moment like this.

"Don't be long," he said warningly, casting one final look between the two of them and left without another word.

She and Jasper stared at each other at a loss for words.

"You look beautiful," he offered lamely, setting the box carefully down on her coffee table.

She smiled sadly. "Thank you."

"Eleanor-"

"-I'm sorry-"

They spoke over each other, and then fell silent again.

"I'm sorry," she tried again, stepping forward. "I shouldn't have- I was scared. Robbie's reaction- this-"

"I'm not good enough for you," he stated. "That's it, isn't it?"

She shook her head. "It's not that," she assured him. "My life- how things have been over the last year- I promised I'd stay out of the papers. Dating a handsome American is not staying out of the papers."

"Dating, huh?" replied Jasper silkily as he moved to close the distance between them.

"I just wanted Christmas to feel like it used to," she whispered as he gently cradled her face in his hands. He brushed his thumb along her bottom lip.

"And did it?" he whispered back, leaning forward. She could feel his warm breath fan across her face, and she closed her eyes. "When I woke up and you were gone… I didn't know what to do. I tried to Google you. I figured out pretty quick that you were full of shit."

She smirked. "It was a new tradition," she reasoned. "I didn't feel so alone with you. Fuck whatever my brother says. I'm not losing you."

"This is insane," he laughed against her lips. She tried to kiss him, but he pulled back and shook his head 'no'. "Nothing about this is conventional. I want to keep spending Christmas with you, Eleanor. This one and every one after it."

"And every day in between?" she asked carefully.

"And every day in between," he confirmed, and pressed his lips firmly to hers.


End file.
